The Princess of Clonmel
by je buurman
Summary: Ever wondered where those ranger cloaks come from? When the young ranger Crowley finally captures a mysterious poacher, it turns out to be a small girl whose haunted eyes speak of a painful past. How is Halt involved in this past, and how will Halt's apprentice Gilan help her deal with it? No female rangers - at least for the time being
1. 1 - Meeting Verita

(A/N)

It was quite some time ago when I wrote this story, or the small part of it that I have anyway. I'm not entirely happy with it - the chapters are short, the OC is the schoolbook definition of a Mary Sue, and it's rather obvious that English isn't my native tongue.

Still, it seems such a shame to have written it and then let it wither away in a forgotten corner of my hard drive, so I'll just post this first chapter, and if you like it the other ones. (there are six and a half finished) I'll have to warn you that I also have a story in progress, about Harry Potter, which takes precedence over this one if I decide to continue it at all.

So, errr, guess that all that remains now is the usual disclaimer.

Hope you'll enjoy it!

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**Chapter 1 – Meeting Verita**

Crowley sighed. He had been on his horse for the better part of the day, and now he no longer felt where his behind ended and the saddle started. Nevertheless, he had to keep going if he wanted to achieve his goal. He had been following a poacher for more than a week now, and he wanted to be done with it.

He never liked having to arrest poachers, because he understood their motives. Most really had no other way of getting food on their table, he sympathized with that. Nevertheless, poaching was a crime, and he had to stop it. This one was really hard to catch though. He was silent, sneaky and covered his tracks extremely well. He hid any evidence of his activities by burying it and then covering it with leaves. It had taken Crowley days to find one of these hiding places at all.

The contents proved enlightening though, even if it was mostly trash, which made the ranger suspect that the poacher had a residence nearby where he kept his equipment. Among other things, Crowley found several broken arrows, some animal bones, parts of traps and ashes from fire. The arrows were short and light, so they belonged to a small person who either wasn't very strong or had a rather weak bow. The poacher was a good shot though, judging by the amount of fresh animal bones.

Lost in these musings, Crowley cursed himself for not knowing these woods better. He had been a ranger for fifteen years now, five of which as an apprentice. During his training, he had been discontented with many things about the ranger corps. Once he graduated and met his friend Halt, the two of them had worked tirelessly to improve the way the rangers worked. This had earned Crowley a good reputation, one that finally convinced his superiors to promote him to being the ranger of Caraway fief, which had happened two weeks before. A huge honor because Caraway was a big fief and close to castle Araluen, and therefore strategically important, but it meant he had to track an expert poacher down in foreign woods, which wasn't what you'd call easy.

So lost in his thoughts was he, that Crowley nearly missed the small cottage when he passed it. The warning arrow that flew so low over his head that it actually touched his hair was a lot harder to miss, so he startled, stopped his horse and immediately scanned his surroundings for the assailant. He saw no one however.

"King's rangers, who's there!", he yelled, the sound echoed eerily through the silent forest. Even his sharp eyes couldn't find a person between the trees in the semi-dark of a late autumn evening.

It remained silent for a little longer, until Crowley received an unexpected reply.

"If I don't tell, I suppose you'll just break into my house to find out for yourself?", an uncommonly high voice asked. Crowley was so startled that he dumbly blurted out a 'yes' before he could think it through.

"Well, then there's nothing for it I guess.", the voice stated, shortly before a small cloaked figure dropped out of a nearby tree.

"The name's Verita. About my last name I wonder myself."

"Crowley. Ranger Crowley of Caraway fief.", Crowley replied automatically.

"Ah, there's a new ranger then. I wondered when that old dabbler that we had before would retire."

This sparked Crowley's interest. "You knew the previous ranger?"

"Not in person. He was one of my mother's more frequent customers before she fell ill and died."

"Oh, I'm sorry.", Crowley said softly. "What was her job then?"

"She was a prostitute.", the cloaked person replied flatly in the high voice.

"Is that why you don't know your last name? Your mother didn't know who your father is?" Crowley felt bad for asking this, but he was curious.

"No, my mother knew whom my father is, but she never wanted to tell me, and then it was too late. He wasn't a customer though."

"No?"

"No, he raped her."

Crowley was deeply disturbed. Judging by the name, he supposed this person was a girl, and she sounded very young. Her extensive knowledge of things like rape and prostitution seemed rather unhealthy.

"How old are you?", he therefore wondered.

"I'll be eleven in two month's time.", she answered swiftly as she shook off the cloak's cowl. It was silent again after that.

Crowley studied the girl's face. It suited her voice, for it was young, but most of all emotionless. Her eyes were a deep, dark blue and spoke of misery so severe that she had chosen to ban all her feelings, if only to keep her sanity. Apart from this bitterness however, she startlingly reminded Crowley of Halt, his colleague and friend. Their features were remarkably alike, even if the girl was younger, female and a whole lot prettier. Her hair was a few shades lighter than his, but had the same structure and was even cut in the same sloppy way, as if she had done it herself.

"Are you from here?", he finally asked.

"I suppose I'm originally from Hibernia, for my mother was pregnant with me already when she arrived here. I never set foot in that country though, and I think she was born as a Skandian."

"I don't quite follow you.", Crowley said, hoping she'd elaborate. Rather than replying however, the girl produced a big dagger from somewhere under her cloak. She hesitated for a moment, then took a step forward and handed it to Crowley, hilt first. It turned out to be a blade much like his own sax knife, but made of inferior metal. The hilt was decorated with a gruesome hunchbacked figure with enormous teeth and a long beard.

"That horrendous monster thingy is Gorlog, a minor Skandian god. Mother was tall and blonde like Skandians, totally unlike the Hibernians, amongst whom she lived before she moved here."

She took the knife back, opened the small door that was the entrance to the cottage, and beckoned that Crowley should follow her. Once inside she started to stir a pot of stew that was already on the fire, and pointed the ranger to a chair.

"My mother behaved more like the Hibernians though, because she was in love with a Hibernian man and tried to adapt to his people to make him fall in love with her. She even started speaking in their accent, which rubbed off on me, as you must have noticed by now." She stopped again. Crowley now noticed her accent indeed, which was also like Halt's. But then again, Halt had been born and raised in Hibernia. "It was this man's twin brother who raped my mother.", the girl suddenly continued, "I don't know his name, and I don't care. I don't know my mother's last name either, but I hardly care about that too. She wasn't much of a mother." After that the girl went silent, as if she felt ashamed for admitting that last part. Crowley took the opportunity to study the interior of the cottage.

It really was a tiny building. The room that he currently found himself in contained a dining table with only two chairs, a small couch, a big tub that presumably served as a bath and a fireplace with some sort of metal rig that made it possible to cook on it. The even smaller room behind it with only a curtain for a door was probably a bedroom. Crowley studied the girl as she expertly handled the heavy metal pot of stew.

"You might as well join me for dinner now!", the girl said after a while with fake cheerfulness and divided the stew over two bowls. Crowley noticed that she had made enough for two, as if she had known that he was going to find her cottage. He suddenly realized that she had been leading him on all week, and now planned this whole meeting.

The stew was very good, even more so because Crowley was very, very hungry. While the two ate, the girl continued her story.

"She had been in Araluen only a few weeks when she gave birth. The trade ship she came with had moored at the river Oosel in Nordam fief, she intended to get to the capital from there, but got stuck halfway here in Caraway when I was born earlier than expected. Being a single mother with a shady past didn't exactly recommend her to the people here, but she was still beautiful, so in the end she found a job as a waitress in a rather questionable pub. It all went well for about five years. After that, she suddenly realized that the man whom she loved in Hibernia wouldn't want her now and became depressed. She took up her 'side-job', knowing that she was ruined anyway. The pub owner disapproved of that, but he had to allow it because he needed her to attract customers. On the other hand she started to worry about her appearance, she became frightened to lose her beauty with which she had wanted to win over that Hibernian whom she would never have anyway. She earned more money than ever, but spent it all on beautifying herself, none on me, not even on food for me. I was barely more than a toddler, but she completely forgot about me."

She stopped there again. Crowley wasn't sure if it was a hesitation, or if she just needed to chew a particularly big piece of meat more thoroughly. He suspected the latter, for the girl had told the story thus far as if it happened to someone else, as if she wasn't involved in it.

"Luckily I could usually help in the pub's kitchen in exchange for leftovers. It was not long after that when I started poaching. I've always wanted to become a tailor though. I'm really good at sewing and designing clothes. Poaching clothes,", she gestured vaguely at the cloak that she still wore, "but other clothes too. I always wished to make dresses like the nobility wears. That probably won't happen however, and my mother never acknowledged me again, not even on the day she died, which was at the end of last winter."

Crowley looked once again at the cloak. He remembered how he had been completely unable to spot the girl in the forest while she wore the thing. It would surely be better for unseen movement than the cloaks the rangers used now, which were colored entirely in an ugly green-brown.

"You know,", he began, "we rangers could really do with some of those cloaks. Would you be willing to sell them?" The girl merely raised an eyebrow, in an eerily familiar way.

"Why do you think I allowed you to find my cottage?"


	2. 2 - Gilan's Misfortunes

(A/N)

Yay, this thing has an actual follower! Of the chapters that I already have, I'll probably post one per day, and after that I'll see if it's worth continuing. Can't make any promises though.

Disclaimer... Enjoy... Blablabla...

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**Chapter 2 – Gilan's Misfortunes.**

A boy of fourteen years old sighed as he dragged a heavy bucked of water from the river to his mentor's cabin for what seemed the hundredth time that day. When he wanted to become a ranger, he never considered this as part of the job. There was one big highlight though.

"Hello Blaze!", he cheerfully called out to his new horse. When his father still trained Gilan to become a knight like him, the boy had had to ride huge battle horses. However, the moment he met Blaze, he realized he preferred this intelligent little pony. Within the space of a week, the two had become fast friends.

"Don't spoil the horses!" Gilan suddenly heard behind him when he reached for an apple to give to Blaze, and he startled so badly that he knocked his head against a crossbeam.

"Ouch!", he yelled, and the two ponies before him whinnied in a manner that resembled sniggering. He glared at them before pointing at the apple barrel and shaking his head with a malicious grin. The animals hung their heads disappointed.

Halt, who had remained silent during this scene looked from the horses to his apprentice, grabbed two apples from the barrel, and fed the horses one each. They made appreciative noises and rubbed their heads against him affectionately. Gilan grumbled at the unfairness of it all and made a move to pet Blaze, who huffed and turned away. It was then than Gilan noticed the letter that Halt held in his hand.

"Who's that from?", he asked.

"I don't think that is any concern of yours.", Halt replied flatly. Gilan looked even more dejected now.

"My friend Crowley, the newly appointed ranger of Caraway fief.", Halt said with a sigh. Gilan perked up now, he had met Crowley once when the man came to visit Halt. Crowley was very competent, so Gilan was happy the ranger was now stationed in his home fief.

"Is it important?", he asked, curious if perhaps his father, who was the battlemaster of that fief, was connected to the news.

"Not the Skandian-invasion-kind of important.", Halt replied, with a glance at the letter's contents.

"But it is another kind of important then?", his persistent apprentice asked. Halt suppressed another sigh.

"It could be, long term." He paused for a moment but then continued, "Crowley discovered someone who makes camouflage cloaks vastly superior to ours. The way he describes it, unseen movement will become a piece of cake with those things. Apparently they were still haggling over the price when Crowley wrote this letter, but he hopes to send me a cloak within the week to test."

"Is this person a ranger too?", Gilan asked eagerly. He had already recognized unseen movement as one of his specialties and was eager to improve it.

"No. It's a poacher."

Gilan looked very disappointed with that. A sardonic smirk appeared on Halt's bearded face.

"A female poacher who is not much younger than you and apparently quite pretty."

Gilan's face reddened when he recalled a pair of dark eyes as something suddenly seemed to make sense. Halt just shook his head, turned around and entered his cabin.

It wasn't a quarter of an hour later when Halt reemerged from the cabin and started yelling at his apprentice.

"You're not still dreaming about pretty faces are you? Saddle that mangy pony of yours, we have to do another harbor patrol!"

Gilan's face brightened, he loved doing harbor patrols. They were necessary because sometimes Skandians and other pirates would infiltrate the harbor and cause trouble. It wasn't that big a problem in a small harbor like the one nearest Redmont which was their responsibility, but it was still a lot of fun to see everything that was going on there, with all the ships and the foreigners.

Those patrols were useful as well. Not a month ago had Halt and Gilan apprehended a Skandian spy. Discovering the man hadn't been all that hard because he was not subtle at all, on the contrary, he was dressed in his typical Skandian clothes and even spoke clearly in their greasy accent. It had however been very interesting to see Halt interrogate the man.

These musings invoked yet another question in the young apprentice.

"Halt, why are the Skandians always plundering Araluen?" The consecutive eye-roll on Halt's part warned Gilan that he was asking too many questions again.

"For money of course. Even if they give other reasons to prevent their victims from ganging up against them.", the grimfaced man muttered from behind his beard.

"What kind of reasons?" Halt didn't succeed in suppressing his sigh this time.

"The Skandians always have one excuse or another. I believe the one they're currently using is the supposed kidnapping of jarlsdottir Natalja."

"Jarlsdottir? What sort of name is that?"

"It's not a name – it's a title. I might hope you remember the lessons about foreign politics that I put so much effort in?", a hint of despair crept into the older ranger's tone.

"Oh right, a jarl is the Skandian equivalent of nobility.", Gilan said sheepishly, deciding not to react to the other comment.

"Indeed, there might be hope for you yet. That makes a jarlsdottir, a jarl's daughter, nobility as well. This particular one is the daughter of Erak Starfollower, one of the higher ranked jarls. Even when she was very young, she was known for her beauty. So much so, that Ragnok the oberjarl", Halt paused when he noticed Gilan's puzzled face, "a kind of elected king, wanted to marry her. He however wasn't exactly mentally stable, and also a lot older that Natalja, so her father sent her away to Hibernia when she was fifteen, to keep her safe, to Clonmel to be precise. When she was about eighteen, something happened there, after which she disappeared. The Skandians blame Araluen for kidnapping her, apparently because king Ferris of Clonmel insists we did that. Personally I believe it's just an excuse for terrorizing our coast."

Gilan took some time to digest all this information, while he rode alongside Halt. He really tried to keep his habit of blurting out questions in check, but in the end one leaked out anyway.

"How long ago did it happen?"

Halt thought it over. He had actually lived in Clonmel when the woman disappeared, so he knew more about the situation than most. Still, he had no idea where the woman had gone. Ferris had come up with the kidnapping cover story, but Halt knew that wasn't the truth. He rolled his eyes at his apprentice, but answered anyway.

"About eleven years ago, if it happened at all."


	3. 3 - Becoming a sort of ranger

(A/N)

So, new chapter. Just in case you're wondering: the OC won't become a full ranger, she'll just be their cloak maker and do the occasional mission when really necessary.

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**Chapter 3 – Becoming a sort of ranger**

"Are we agreed then?", Crowley asked in desperation after two hours of haggling.

"Nope.", the girl opposite him answered with a fake smile and a raised eyebrow.

"But I really can't go higher than that.", Crowley whined.

"It's your loss then." Crowley actually sighed in despair at that.

"What?", the girl asked, "I need to get food on the table somehow!"

Now she fixed her opponent with a predatory smile. "Unless…"

Crowley didn't like where this was going. He felt like he was being set up.

"Unless you'll turn a blind eye to my poaching." Yep, he had been set up.

"Verita, I'm a king's ranger. I know this fief's previous ranger wasn't up to par, but I've got a stellar reputation to uphold, so I really can't condone such business." Verita didn't even bother replying to this speech, choosing instead to start a staring match. Crowley looked away first.

It was then though, when he suddenly got inspiration.

"You know, the only people in the country who aren't persecuted for poaching are rangers, they are a legal exception to the law because they sometimes need to acquire food like that while on missions. The catch in this rule is that it includes the entire ranger corps – also the auxiliaries. The auxiliaries are people like our bowmaker, Fletcher and horse trainer, who are part of the corps but don't do ranger work. If you were willing to bind yourself to the corps in that way, all should be well."

The girl who was only one decade old sat there in her old, unstable wooden chair as she considered the offer.

"Write up a contract and I'll see if I like the terms. I'll have a cloak in your size ready tomorrow evening at the latest, for you to try out. That okay?", she finally stated.

"Perfect.", Crowley sighed, but this time in relief. He found he quite enjoyed the girl's company when she wasn't haggling, so he chatted some more with her over a cup of coffee.

"Your math and writing and so on are very good considering your situation. Who taught you?"

"I received a few years of formal education. The previous ranger arranged it all, probably to have me out of the house on fixed hours each day so he could do the Lord-knows-what with my mother. I already knew some reading and writing back then because I sometimes help an old monk who lives nearby with his chores and he'd give me lessons as a reward. The same monk turned out to be the schoolmaster, he quickly brought me up to speed and then moved me to his advanced class."

"Did you have many friends there?", Crowley asked. He was worried about the young girl. She needed a confidant with all that had happened to her, but her circumstances would make people prejudiced against her.

"One. All the students in that class were a few years older than me, rich, and boys. Their parents forbade them to speak with me, the illegitimate daughter of a prostitute, and it made them look down upon me. Only the battlemaster of the fief seemed to realize that I couldn't choose my parents, but he still disapproved of me for some reason. Still, his son and I were rather close, but the boy never returned after a trip to Redmont. Sir David, his father, only said he's doing an apprenticeship now, but even that he didn't really want to tell me.

"That's too bad. But I bet he'll visit home sometimes, at the very least when he's done with his apprenticeship.", Crowley said, trying to lift her spirits. "Did you fancy this lad?" Crowley may be the mighty ranger of Caraway fief, but at hart he was a nosy gossiper worse than any old lady.

"I'm ten, I don't fancy boys.", the girl started her reply. "But… Something just felt right about him. It was like I simply knew he was a decent fellow. The same way that I just know I can trust you."

Crowley didn't say anything to that, he merely lifted his coffee mug as if to toast to it. The duo however knew that they had just formed a lifelong alliance that might just turn into a friendship somewhere down the road.

The weeks flew by while the man and the girl settled into their new roles in the ranger corps. During the day Verita showed Crowley all the peculiarities in the landscape of Caraway, while they hunted for their dinner. In the evenings she told him all that she'd ever overheard about criminal activities when her mother still worked in that seedy pub, and Crowley told her more about the ranger corps, while she worked at her loom, weaving ranger cloaks. The cloaks became popular immediately, and were made a standard part of the ranger uniform.

At that point, Crowley and Verita had already taken to calling each other 'Crow' and 'Rita', those long names were really too much of a hassle. After two months, when Verita turned eleven, she had produced cloaks for about half the rangers, and she ran into Crowley when they snuck into Caraway Castle's kitchens to steal a birthday cake for her at the same time.

The day that Verita received her copper oak leaf, symbol of the auxiliary rangers, a young ranger's apprentice finally received his camouflage cloak, and was reminded of a girl he'd had to leave behind back home. Gilan missed his Verita, or Vera as he called her, she was so unlike other people. His father was glad that they were apart though, sir David didn't approve of her. When he heard the girl would be in the same school class as Gilan he had told his son to be wary of her, not because of her parentage, but because she wore elaborate dresses and always walked around with rabbit meat near the butcher's, while she clearly couldn't afford such things. She was always running around in the forest on her own. Sir David thought that Verita was irresponsible and didn't want her to be a bad influence on his son.

Gilan however had looked for himself, and noticed some things his father had failed to see. Like the fabric of her dresses, which was the cheapest material the local tradesman had available, fabric a person with the skill to sew such intricate details would never use. When Verita gave Gilan a beautifully embroidered handkerchief for his birthday, he concluded that she sewed everything herself.

He also noticed that she only ever entered the butcher shop with meat. She never left with any, so she must sell rather than buy it. He thought that maybe the meat was a present from the fief's ranger, who was allowed to hunt and was partial to the girl's mother. Now that he knew of a young female poacher in his home fief, he rather suspected that she caught them herself.

There was little he knew for sure though. He had never dared to ask much, because Vera didn't like talking about her home life.

No, Verita, daughter of Natalja, was a very secretive person, and not a happy one. However, Gilan wanted with his whole heart for her to be happy, and most of all he wanted to be part of the reason why.


	4. 4 - Going to the Gathering?

(A/N)

New chapter... Disclaimer... Enjoy... Blablabla...

By the way, thanks for the two reviews I've had so far! Ranger Indecisive & Ranger Robbin, you are my heroes.

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**Chapter 4 – Going to the gathering?**

"Boo."

Gilan cringed when he realized his mentor had managed to sneak up on him yet again, this time whilst the apprentice was practicing archery. The yearly gathering of the ranger corps was only a few weeks away, and Halt still constantly managed to surprise him.

The Halt in question noticed the dejected look in his apprentice's eyes, so he spoke up: "Don't look at me like I murdered your pet rabbit, boy. You weren't startled this time, you managed to remain focused enough to hit your target. That's quite an improvement indeed. Now you'll just have to learn to aim for suspicious people sneaking up on you rather than that bale of straw."

Gilan indeed seemed considerably cheered up now. The young apprentice even attempted a sarcastic remark.

"Does that mean I have to aim for you?"

"If you want to be arrested for treason upon killing a king's ranger I'd say yes. I'm glad I won't be alive to explain it to your father if that is the case."

Gilan just shook his head. He had long since accepted that Halt would always have the last word. His mentor was now asking for his attention again though.

"Clean this mess up.", Halt said, gesturing at the arrow-filled target. "Your unseen movement is passable, it improved with the new cloak, but if you want that bronze oak leaf you'll have to do something about your silent movement before the gathering." That reminded Gilan of something.

"About that cloak, will the cloak-maker come to the gathering too? I mean, Old Bob said he would come, and he's a horse trainer, not a real ranger, and she works for the ranger corps too, so I thought…"

"Apprentices don't think, they aren't ready for that!", Halt interrupted Gilan's ramblings. He fixed the youth with a stern glare, but explained anyway.

"Old Bob is an auxiliary ranger. When someone works with our corps as closely they're bound to find out some secrets." Halt paused a moment for the dramatic effect, "Like all the ranger horses' codewords, something we don't want to leak out. Of course we only choose reliable people for such positions, but just to be sure we have them all swear oaths. In exchange for that they get to wear an oak leaf too – a copper one – which gives them many of the privileges only rangers have. Like the right to poach, which is according to Crowley the reason why this girl finally joined the corps as an auxiliary."

It took a while before the penny dropped. "She's one of these auxiliaries.", Gilan stated, "She'll be there then?"

Halt just rolled his eyes. "Probably, Crowley says they aren't sure yet."

Indeed, the cloak-maker and the ranger were discussing exactly that at the very moment, many miles away in Caraway fief. They trotted along the river Semath, which formed part of the border of the fief, checking for suspicious vessels while they spoke. Verita rode Crowley's pack pony, and for someone who had only recently learned to ride she managed quite well on the lazy old animal. She couldn't ride with both legs on one side of the horse though, so she wore pants for the occasion and rode astride. Not that anyone noticed her as a girl when she had her cloak's hood up like now.

"The ranger commander specifically asked me to bring you to the gathering, he wants to meet you."

"Caraway adjoins Araluen fief. If he really wants to meet me I'm but a three hour ride away. He, I or whomever visits whom can be back home before dinner.", was Verita's swift retort.

"Rita…", he whined.

"We've been over this again and again, Crow. I'm the only female in a corps full of men. I'm half a decade younger than even the apprentices. I'm no good with loads of new people and I've never even left this fief. The gathering would be no place for me."

Crowley sighed, but then a plan formed in his mind.

"Berrigan – a friend of mine – is staying in the village for a few days. He was a ranger once, but he lost half a leg in a fight, so he had to retreat from active service. He earns his living as a jongleur now, a profession which makes him very useful for gathering information. That's why he got a copper oak leaf like yours, he sometimes helps with missions, which made us consider him an auxiliary. The auxiliaries tend to stick together at gatherings while the full rangers handle their ranger business, so if I introduce you to him now, and you two like each other, I'm sure he'll look out for you a bit."

Verita considered it. "That's a good point. But then I'm still an eleven-year-old girl."

"You floored a Skandian at arm wrestling.", Crowley reminded her, thinking of a rather memorable moment when they were checking the local pubs.

"Because I kicked him in the shins under the table, yes.", Verita sulked in reply with one eyebrow raised.

"Ah, so that's how you won!", Crowley said, realization dawning. "But that's not how I meant it. I mean that you're tough. You don't run away screaming when you spot an insect. I don't meant to, errr, diminish your femininity or something, but the guys will accept you as one of them."

"But then I'm still only eleven years old.", the girl interjected quietly.

"Eleven and a half, and you hardly look the part.", Crowley diminished her concerns. Indeed, she'd had quite a growth spurt during the half year that she'd worked as an auxiliary ranger, and was now taller than her ranger friend. It seemed that the peace that came with a steady income, a certain future and the nearly constant companionship of an older confidant had done her a world of good.

"Wear a ranger cloak and you'll easily pass for fifteen or older."

Verita looked Crowley square in the eye and heaved a long, suffering sigh.

"Just where will we find this Berrigan person?"


	5. 5 - Of inbreeding in farmer families

(A/N)

New chapter again. And this one I actually rather like. Hope you do so too!

Disclaimer... Right, we know that I don't own any of this stuff.

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**Chapter 5 – Of inbreeding in farmer families**

When Verita finally assented, Crowley quickly named the inn, before she could change her mind. It was a decent inn, not the one where Natalja had worked.

When they approached the forest's edge she told Crowley to stop for a moment, and fished a skirt out of the bag that she had with her. The skirt was a modest, floor length one which buttoned up on one side, so she could easily put it on over her pants and it would hide that she was wearing a pair. She had specifically designed the skirt for that purpose of course. Thus attired Verita considered herself appropriately dressed to venture into the village where the inn stood. It meant she had to suffer through half a mile of riding sideways, but that was inevitable and she managed to stay on the pony. She had taken off her ranger cloak, but Crowley still wore his.

It was late afternoon when they entered the inn, but Berrigan was already playing.

"We'll wait until he takes a break of course. If you'll occupy that table in the back for us I'll fetch some coffee, my treat.", Crowley decided.

"Right, thanks Crow. Your friend plays well by the way.", Verita answered him.

"He'll be happy to hear it."

Crowley walked over to the table with the coffee about a minute later. While waiting for the hot beverage to be poured, he noticed a young farmer's son eying up Verita appreciatively. There were a man, a woman and a girl with the boy. Crowley knew these people well. The man was the girl's father, and the woman the boy's mother. The two families owned the two most profitable farms of Caraway fief, so their families had intermarried a lot. A result of this was that throughout the generations, their offspring had become progressively sparse and ugly. Indeed, this boy and this girl were not much to look at and the last heirs to their respective farms. It was therefore that their parents were quite desperate to see them married, even if they were first cousins.

The boy and girl cared not one iota for each other though, so only their parents and Crowley were disturbed when the young lad salivated over Verita. Crowley gave him the evil eye from under his hood and subtly jingled his quiver full of deadly arrows before he took the seat next to his young friend and handed her a mug of coffee.

It was only then that he noticed that she had been singing along softly, in a beautiful voice. A wink from Berrigan told him that the musician had noticed as well. Verita sipped her coffee with obvious enjoyment when the song came to an end.

"I think one more song will be quite enough to earn me a break.", Berrigan stated, after some wordless communication with Crowley. "But before I start it, I wonder if the lovely lady in the back who sings like an angel from heaven perhaps knows the lyrics that go with 'My Sweet Juliette'?"

Verita's face went beet red, she sunk back in her chair and attempted to hide behind Crowley. All the inn's customers now focused their attention on her. It took a glance at Crowley's worried expression before she quickly nodded. She stood up, modestly straightened her skirt, and then straightened her back before she spoke up.

"I do."

Berrigan smiled at her encouragingly. "Would you then perhaps sing a duet with me?"

Quite unable to speak another word she just nodded again and blushed, but took a stand next to the one-legged jongleur. The singing however came naturally to her, a result of hours upon hours of practicing while she did her spinning, weaving and sewing, so that went very well. Her voice, still high because of her youth, had indeed an angelic quality to it. By the end of the song, the entire audience was stunned into silence, including Crowley.

The farmer boy was now positively drooling over the younger girl, despite the fact that she wore simple clothes, had choppily cut hair and sat with an overprotective ranger. His mother and uncle were not amused.

"What's your name, sweety?", Berrigan asked Verita, and she answered him politely.

"That's indeed a name worthy of an angel.", the jongleur replied, "Let's have a big round of applause for you!" The customers and personnel of the inn all started to clap and cheer with Berrigan, but the farmer woman now finally found something against the girl.

"She's the bastard daughter of that Natalja woman – Natalja the local whore. She's the bastard daughter of a whore and a nameless man!", the woman shrieked through the establishment, a deafening silence ensued.

Her brother-in-law, who had paid his fair share of visits to Natalja when she was still alive now added his bit too: "The whore slept with the ranger, the old one. Now the mother is six feet under and a new ranger came in, the daughter's just picking up where her mommy left!"

"Enough!", Crowley yelled hard enough to be heard in Castle Araluen as he took a protective position in front of Verita, an arrow already on his bow. "I'm a king's ranger!"

"As am I!", Berrigan added, fishing his copper oak leaf out of his collar with his left hand while his right held his sax knife which had been hanging on his belt before.

"As am I.", Verita quietly added from between the two men, holding up her own oak leaf. Her voice was cold and emotionless, like it had been half a year ago. Crowley eyed her with concern, she was pale as a ghost and looked close to passing out. He feared that all the progress she had made had been for naught, that she had retreated back in her shell. He was sure of it when he looked next to him and she was gone, and the nearest window was flapping in its hinges.

"You,", Crowley told the farmer man and women with pure hatred in his eyes, "are under arrest."

To add to the confusion, sir David, battlemaster of Caraway fief, chose that exact moment to enter the inn. He had been passing by when he heard the commotion and decided to check what it was about.

"Just what happened in there?", the tall man asked Crowley while a couple of guards led the farmers away. Sir David found the murderous look in the ranger's eyes to be rather disturbing.

"Those people heavily insulted a fellow member of the ranger corps. Called her a bastard daughter of a whore and whatnot."

"There's a female ranger?", sir David asked astounded.

"Auxiliary ranger, but she's more important than any other ranger. They're replaceable – she is not."

"And they called her a bastard daughter of a whore?", he verified.

"Yes. Well, that's technically true I suppose, but you don't say something like that to an eleven year old girl whose entire life was ruined by the fact."

"Is her name Verita, daughter of Natalja?", sir David asked, blanching rapidly. Crowley nodded with one eyebrow raised. "Damn, I'm screwed then.", the battlemaster went on, "My son will hate me now."

All those years he had disapproved of the girl, tried to force her and Gilan's friendship apart, and now it turned out she had been allowed into the reclusive ranger corps. He was quite screwed indeed.

"Whatever. I must go and find her.", Crowley answered, but then added an afterthought: "Although, if she doesn't want to be found, I never will."


	6. 6 -

(A/N)

Chapter 6 already... And, good news, I've written some more chapters! There are ten now, I'll keep posting one a day. After that you probably won't hear from me for a while, because I'll be abroad.

Anyway, about this chapter. There's a new OC, and his name is... Pater Hadrianus. Named after the Roman emperor Hadrianus, because I couldn't think of anything better that sounded Latin-y. Speaking of Latin, this chapter contains some Latin phrases in Italics. I'll put the translations at the end. At least there is a use now for the three years worth of Latin classes which I've had to suffer through. For those who don't pity me at this point: I've also had SIX years of ancient Greek classes... and for those I still haven't found a use. But hey, who needs a use other than knowing cool verb tenses like the pseudosigmatic aoristos?

Disclaimer... whatever.

Enjoy the chapter!

Oh, and before I forget, thanks to AriannaTheRanger and the anonymous guest who posted reviews. Indeed, rangers used cloaks before Crowley came along. It says so too in my story, those old ones were simply inferior to the ones my OC makes. I know as well as you that that still isn't very likely, but hey, using your imagination a little improves most fanfics by tenfold!

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Better a near neighbor than a distant friend**

It was cold, so very cold. Verita idly wondered if Skandia was as cold as this. She suspected it was, because this cold was surely enough to freeze one's heart, and that might explain how her mother had become so uncaring.

When she left the inn, the only thing on her mind had been getting away. She had ran off, into the forest, but careful not to leave any tracks. She had quickly distanced herself from the small village, and passed several more on her way. She didn't know where it was that she finally collapsed, but she had welcomed the blackness.

Now that she woke again, it was cold. It was spring, but an exceptionally cold and rainy one, and she had left her cloak in her bag on Crowley's pony. To pass out on the forest floor under such circumstances was not a good idea. She struggled to open her eyes, and noticed the rising sun. She must have been out there all night! The rays of bright sunlight signaled the beginning of a new day, but it held no hope for the young girl. Resigned with her fate she allowed her world to fade into nothing once again.

The second time that Verita awoke, she noticed a considerable improvement in her surroundings. She lay on something soft and clean, felt the warmth of a fire nearby, and deduced that she must be in a building from the fact that the wind no longer bothered her. She stirred and felt the sheets of a bed around her. She could only see the floor when she cracked an eye open, but noticed the familiar sandals poking out under a brown habit anyway.

"Pater Hadrianus.", she managed to mutter with some effort.

"_Salve_, Verita. I see you've finally woken up, _mea parva puella_, you've given me quite a scare."

It was pater Hadrianus, the old monk who served as a school teacher in Caraway fief. He had lived in a Gallic convent for most of his life, studying many foreign languages, including the ones that were no longer spoken, which he liked the best. When the convent fell victim to a civil war, he moved to Araluen where he found employment. The diplomatic service had originally wanted him because of his vast knowledge, but he preferred a quiet life, and enjoyed nothing more than passing on all that he knew. He lived in a humble cottage near Caraway Castle, and must have found Verita on one of his morning walks.

"Yes, I don't know what came over me.", Verita finally said in return.

"That's all right, you don't have to tell me.", the old monk replied with a gentle smile and then gestured to a bowl of soup that stood on the nightstand.

"I think you could do with some warm food.", he simply said and helped Verita get into a sitting position.

Verita realized that the pater must care more about her than she had realized. She had always instinctively liked him, and helped him with some chores that were hard for him in his old age. He had always taught her interesting things and lent her books in return. She had thought that he considered this a superficial friendship based on mutual gain, even if she looked up to him as the closest thing she had to a father figure. Turned out she was wrong, he really did care about her, foreign as the concept seemed to the girl.

"Pater Hadrianus,", she began once she finished the soup, "I really appreciate all that you've done for me. Especially considering your loyalty to the church, which is after all not very fond of people with my parentage."

"Nonsense Verita!", the monk reacted, "I serve the Lord, not the church. Any God worth his followers would judge them for who they are, not for their parents, and I'd be hard-pressed to find a person more honest, gentle and compassionate than you, except for your poaching habit."

The young girl couldn't help smiling at the last bit. "You know, now that I'm part of the ranger corps, poaching is legal for me. Does that make me a complete saint then?"

Pater Hadrianus smiled back at her. "There are still your teasing comments to consider. But I'd forgive you for those any day. Really Vera, you're a wonderful person. Even when you got that position with the rangers and became so busy, and found someone who could teach you more useful things than some old languages, you still made time to visit me now and then. I won't forget that."

Verita blushed under such praise. Pater Hadrianus was apart from Gilan the only person who ever called her 'Vera'. Most people who bothered getting to know her shortened her name to 'Rita', like Crowley did. That was a good nickname, it sounded very comrade-like. Vera however sounded softer somehow, more like family. When Gilan said it though, it sounded like even more. She missed that boy, and wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time where he had suddenly run off to. It didn't help that sir David wouldn't tell her where his son had gone either. Then again, the battlemaster had always had something against her.

Pater Hadrianus took a seat next to the bed Verita lay on. "Stay here until you're well again, _iuvena amica_.", he bade her, but it was in vain.

"I can't pater, I'm a king's ranger now, so I have my duty to consider.", she sighed resignedly. "I may not be in active service, but Crowley is, and I know for a fact that he won't get any work done until he knows where I am."

Hadrianus worried for the young girl's health, but he took solace in the fact that she now at least had someone who cared about her and took care of her. And that she cared enough to feel the need to appease this person. His little protégée had truly flourished under the ranger's influence, he hoped that a better day would soon dawn for her. And that she'd someday see young Gilan again. The pater's two favorite students had always been fond of each other.

Verita needed to rest for a few more hours before she could return home. Even then pater Hadrianus was reluctant to let her go off on her own.

"Really pater, the ranger cabin is less than a mile away, and my cottage is even closer. I'm certain Crowley will have someone or at least a message waiting for me at my home. I'll be fine.", Verita said when she left her friend's humble dwelling.

"I still don't like it, but I see I have no choice in the matter.", pater Hadrianus replied. "_Vale_ then, Vera, until we may see each other again."

It was a very sad pater who waved the girl goodbye.

* * *

Salve = hello

mea parva puella = my little girl

iuvena amica = young (female) friend

vale = goodbye


	7. 7 - Gilan at the Gathering

(A/N)

Yay, a chapter about Gilan again! It will be some time though before he gets to see Verita again. I felt so mean while I wrote this that I could actually picture myself as a little dictator with an evil lair and minions and everything.

Thanks for the reviews, and I'm indeed Dutch, you guessed correctly AriannaTheRanger.

Anyway, I still don't own any RA stuff, and enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Gilan at the Gathering**

Gilan hadn't bothered mentioning to Halt that he was probably acquainted with the mysterious female cloak-maker who now worked for the ranger corps. He was pretty sure it was Verita though. Really, just how many young girls from Caraway fief were poachers and experts at needlework? It had to be her.

He had however, as mentioned before, not bothered notifying Halt of the fact. That was due to the steady stream of sarcastic girlfriend comments that the old ranger made. They ranged from 'Watch out for that fire, I doubt your girlfriend would appreciate you burning that cloak she worked for so long on' to 'If you intend to woo that girl with good table manners, she'd sooner fall for a Skandian'. Gilan shuddered to think what Halt would do if he knew of his friendship with Verita. Halt said that information was power, so Gilan would closely guard this bit.

Nevertheless, he did hope to see her at the gathering.

"Watch it now!", Halt suddenly whispered urgently, as he rode alongside Gilan through the silent forest.

"What is it, Halt?", the apprentice asked curiously.

"Remember what I told you about ambushes?", Halt asked rhetorically.

"Yes.", Gilan answered anyway. A bad, bad idea.

"Of course you do! If you couldn't remember something as simple as that I'd have long since sent you back to your father to become a swordwhacker like him. Really, I bet even your girlfriend is less dense than you."

"Hey, no insulting my non-existent girlfriend!", Gilan retorted, wisely choosing to ignore the rest of Halt's speech. "Now what is the point?"

"The point is,", Halt began, scanning the trees on either side of the path while he spoke, "that we have good reason to expect such an ambush soon. Keep watching."

"Shouldn't one of us concentrate on watching, and the other on listening?", Gilan wondered, repeating one of the tactics Halt had taught him.

"Not in this case. Keep watching."

"Why?" The young apprentice was genuinely curious now.

"Because it'll be Crowley who's after us, and he's the best silent mover in the corps. Listening is futile in his case, if you catch him at all it'll be by seeing him."

"Oh, I remember him now. Anything else I should know of?" Gilan tried to remember Crowley from the man's brief visit last winter. He had been on the return journey from some mission when he made a stop at Redmont to see Halt. Gilan and the man hadn't exchanged more words than the customary introductions, because Halt had sent Gilan off to do archery practice while he and Crowley discussed some confidential matter.

"Yes, Crowley is known for his elaborate hideouts, and for setting up traps." Gilan didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Why will it be Crowley?"

"Because he's my closest friend. We've had a friendly rivalry going since we joined the corps, and now that I have an apprentice I'm sure he'd just love to catch you."

That spiked Gilan's curiosity all right. He knew of course that Halt was close friends with his father, sir David, but the idea of Halt having friends still seemed odd to him, he couldn't really picture it.

"Wow, that's one long, long rivalry.", Gilan whistled. Halt stopped his horse, distracted for the moment.

"Are you calling me OLD, boy?", he asked dangerously, looking his apprentice square in the eye. This in turn distracted Gilan, which the boy came to regret very soon. Indeed, the aforementioned Crowley took advantage of the situation. Gilan didn't even get a chance to reply to Halt, though that might be for the better.

'WHOOOSH!' was the noise that could faintly be heard when a rope suddenly appeared around Gilan and pulled him off his horse.

"AAARGH", was the noise which Gilan made in return. He quickly pulled out his saxe knife and cut the rope loose. He had to drop the knife though, when he had to catch himself as he fell to the ground. He didn't even get the chance to regain his breath before another rope appeared, which pulled him sideways this time. He managed to sever the rope by hitting it sideways with his throwing knife, but now he was out of knives and he had walked into yet another trap.

This trap was different from the other two, it was a big net which pulled him up in the air upside down. A man in his early thirties, presumably Crowley, looked on contentedly as all the arrows slid out of the quiver on the upturned boys back and clattered on the ground. The boy no longer had his knives or sharp arrowheads to cut himself loose, and the net was too constricting for him to use his strikers against Crowley.

"You know Halt, I think I fancy some apprentice roulade for supper tonight.", he said, studying the tight net once more before turning to face his old friend.

"You get more creative every year.", Halt remarked, knowing he'd need to keep a conversation going to cover the noise Gilan would have to make.

"No, I had great help this time around. Our new poacher slash cloak-maker friend knows a lot of knots to make such rope traps. She designed these particular ones to catch deer, big but quick on their feet, just like your apprentice."

Halt nodded in acknowledgement, but then spoke: "It seems that despite your fancy equipment, you still managed to oversee something."

"Like what?", Crowley asked with a cocky smile. Halt, didn't answer, he simply raised an eyebrow. Crowley, now worried, turned around, only to come face to face with the business end of a cavalry sword. Gilan's sword of course.

The sword had remained hidden under his ranger cloak while Gilan was caught, so Crowley hadn't noticed it before. Once the men started talking, Gilan had carefully dislodged it from its scabbard, cut a hole in the net, silently moved over to Crowley, and positioned it an inch or two away from Crowley's throat. Crowley would normally have heard the boy, but he already considered the battle won, and Halt distracted him, so he didn't pay attention.

Crowley looked from Gilan to Halt and then asked the latter: "Where on earth did the boy get a sword?"

Halt just raised his eyebrow again. "At the blacksmith's I imagine.", he replied sarcastically, but then elaborated: "His father is a battlemaster, so naturally he'd already had some training with the sword before he became my apprentice. He's good at it, so I figured it may be a nice ace up his sleeve to keep using one. In fact, he'll be training with a swordmaster for a month or two after the gathering."

Crowley didn't reply, he merely looked dejected and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Beaten by a common swordwhacker and an apprentice at that.".

Gilan suddenly remembered Halt's advice not to gloat about his victory and to pay the beaten opponent a compliment. "Still, it's great how you put up those traps. I mean, I know they were made by a girl, but it surely can't have been easy to hide them so well?" The last bit came out as a question.

Halt had to fight the sudden impulse to slap his own forehead. If he had known his apprentice would screw up his advice in such a spectacular way, he wouldn't have given it at all. In a desperate attempt to change the subject before Crowley could react, and to embarrass Gilan as much as the boy embarrassed him, Halt decided to mention the boy's 'non-existent girlfriend', as Gilan himself had put it.

"By the way, Crowley, did you bring that girl?"

Crowley shook his head in denial. "I finally managed to talk her into coming with me, but then she fell really ill. She's in a bad state, unable to travel. Luckily she was on the mend when I left, so I'll take her to Araluen to meet the commandant right after the gathering."

"I'm sure your absence will do wonders for her health.", Halt remarked dryly with his famous eyebrow raised as he steered his horse back on the path to the familiar gathering grounds. A worried, disappointed apprentice followed him.


	8. 8 - Travel Plans

(A/N)

Yay, this story is from now on officially longer than 10.000 words!

Thanks for the reviews, Ranger Robbin & J.D.!

Oh, and in case anyone wondered, I know I didn't add the title of chapter 6 to the chapter list, but that's because the title was too long. It looked stupid to fill in just half of the title, so I left it like this.

By the way, do you like the cover I added? At first sight it almost looks like the oak leaf pendant lies of a bunch of coffee beans, so I figured it was appropriate. A shame it aren't really coffee beans, but this was the best I could find.

So, new chapter. Verita goes on a journey, and Gilan still doesn't get to see her. Am I not incredibly mean? MUHAHAHAHAHA!

You probably know what a disclaimer looks like by now... and enjoy the story!

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Travel Plans**

Gilan had hoped to see Verita at the ranger gathering. When that was not to be, he hoped to see her later when he returned to Caraway to study under MacNeill for some weeks. Turns out he missed her again, if only by a few hours.

When Verita arrived home after her stay with pater Hadrianus, she found both Crowley and Berrigan at her doorstep, both of whom were very relieved to see her. They quickly reassured her that the situation in the pub was dealt with, that the two offenders would be suitably punished and that sir David wished to make amends for his previous behavior towards her now that he had discovered that she was part of the ranger corps, and thus apparently a reliable person.

Verita however had been severely weakened by that night out in the cold, especially together with the emotional trauma, and was far from recovery. Even the short walk home had considerably worsened her condition, like pater Hadrianus had feared. Once the two men ordered her to go to bed, she slept like the dead for ten hours straight. During that time Crowley went with his two horses to fetch the old pater, knowing the man would be worried. The three of them surely were worried when Verita awoke again and had trouble with breathing, a burning fever, coughed terribly and couldn't keep any food down.

The drafty cottage didn't anything to improve the matter either. The three men worked tirelessly to keep a good fire going, although not too big a one, because that might set the cottage on fire. Still they decided after two days to move their patient to Crowley's ranger cabin, because out of their three dwellings it was the best insulated, most comfortable, and it had an extra bedroom.

That helped somewhat. Unfortunately there was no reliable healer nearby. Berrigan volunteered to ride up to the neighboring fief Araluen to fetch one. Luckily that was a fief were the best healers worked, because the royal family lived there. Pater Hadrianus now mostly watched over Verita, because Crowley also had his ranger duties to attend to.

In the brief instances when the girl was awake Crowley would often tell her about some of the things he had done that day, like one day during the second week of her illness when he had rolled up a band of robbers. He had easily captured the culprits, after which the near-victims started complaining about what had almost happened to them. Crowley's answer to that had been simple: "Worse than that, they've wasted my time." He liked that line, he could see his friend Halt using it sometime. Verita had nearly blacked out again from laughing and coughing at the same time.

Crowley tried to keep the jokes to a minimum after that, especially after pater Hadrianus had berated him for about half an hour. Most of the man's speech had consisted of colorful insults in foreign languages, only about a tenth of which he understood. He recognized the name Gorlog in some of them, and remembered the depiction on Verita's dagger. Crowley didn't think he liked being compared to that particular deity. Also, he would have to ask Halt to translate some of the Gallic and Hibernian ones, because he remembered that his friend was Hibernian and spoke some Gallic.

He could also ask lady Pauline about the Gallic ones though, as a diplomat her understanding of the language was probably superior to Halt's. And she was very pretty. Oh, and right, she was completely in love with Halt, and she lived all the way over in Redmont – where Halt was stationed. Life could be so unfair sometimes…

Luckily Halt managed to translate most of the curses when the two friends met during the gathering. He didn't even ask how Crowley had happened upon such language, he simply raised the ever present eyebrow. He did however forbid his apprentice from listening to the conversation, Gilan's collection of expletives was colorful enough as it was in Halt's opinion. Needless to say, Gilan later sought out Crowley and asked him to repeat them away from his mentor's watchful eye. Halt wasn't exactly happy with that and claimed an increasing amount of grey hair despite the fact that he was only in his thirties, but secretly he was quite proud of his apprentice's affinity for underhanded tactics.

But if this was what happened, then how could it be that Verita was no longer in Caraway when Gilan arrived there? Simple: Gilan had rotten luck. That's what he thought, at any rate.

The real reason that she was gone however was that Berrigan and Crowley had decided that their young friend needed to widen her horizons.

Before Verita fell ill, Crowley had once asked her what she thought about being a ranger in active service. He had told her that there had never been a female ranger, but that there wasn't exactly a rule against the idea, and that the corps might be willing to consider making her one when they learned how much talent she had, how she seemed one with the forest, knew her way around everywhere and was such a natural marksman. She had laughed in his face.

"Really Crow,", she had begun, "I would be the last person to make a good ranger. Granted, I'm a good shot, but only with my weak little recurve bow. Don't give me any crap about being young and getting stronger when I grow up either, I may be half Skandian but I simply didn't inherit their strength. My abilities are sufficient for a poacher – just shoot it in the leg to stop it, then hit it with a knife to take it down, but a ranger needs to be able to kill with one arrow. Not that I even believe myself capable of dealing with the emotional aftermath of killing a person." At that point she had to fix her companion with a stern glare to keep him silent.

"Also, you seem to have overestimated my orientation to a laughable degree. Yes, I know my way around Caraway, but I've lived here all my life. Once I've been somewhere I'll never forget where everything is there, but if it is new… Well, then my sense of direction is pretty similar to that of a blind cow, presumably worse. I won't ever be beaten on familiar ground, but send me into a foreign territory so to speak and you won't have to expect me back, not necessarily because I lost the battle, but more likely because I couldn't find my way back."

That argument shut him up all right. Even more so when she added that she was hopeless with maps. She could read them perfectly fine, she just couldn't match the landmarks with the notes on the map. Continuously asking strangers the way wasn't exactly conductive to one's stealth after all.

No, Verita was very certain that she would never bear a silver oak leaf, and she didn't regret it one bit. She much preferred a quiet life as an auxiliary ranger filled with poaching and needlework. When she set up her contract with the ranger corps, she had purposely chosen to be paid per cloak, because that would enable her to also keep a normal tailor business, once she became old enough for that. Making ranger cloaks was all good and fun, but a little repetitive, and Verita still dreamed of designing finery for the nobility.

Anyway, Crowley agreed with Verita on the point of not becoming an active ranger once she explained her reasoning. Secretly though he still believed she could be useful for some missions. A woman was often more inconspicuous than the best of rangers, after all. Thinking of lady Pauline he briefly entertained the notion that Verita could become a courier – until he remembered that rather than the Skandian strength, she had inherited the Skandian table manners from her mother's side.

Still, he was sure that she would be useful for certain missions. Therefore she would need to see a little more of the world, or at least a little more of Araluen. Berrigan's arrival had given him an idea, which he quickly discussed with the jongleur, which they in turn discussed with Verita, and finally a plan was formed.

Verita would of course have to meet the corps' commandant before anything else. Considering that she was already on the mend when Crowley and Berrigan had to leave for the gathering – they'd luckily overestimated the emotional damage - they supposed that her illness would be over when the men returned, so they decided that they'd then immediately take her to the commandant, who would be back at Castle Araluen. After that Crowley would go back to Caraway to look over his fief, but Verita would travel along with Berrigan on a tour through every fief in Araluen.

The initial proposition of this plan scared the living daylights out of Verita. She had a flashback to the scene in the pub, to the things the two farmers had said. Berrigan however was quick to reassure her. He made sure the girl understood, also in her subconscious fears, that they'd be in places where no one knew her or her history. Even better – she'd be posing as his daughter. He laughingly added that the sympathy he'd get for being a travelling single father should double his earnings even when Verita got half of them. She'd earn her keep by participating in his performances with singing of course, and Berrigan promised to also teach her how to play an instrument.

Even Verita's new job shouldn't suffer under the journey, considering the fact that every ranger had just received a brand new cloak of the highest quality and wouldn't need a replacement anytime soon. Still, Verita suggested that they should inform the commandant and give them a map of their route, so that she could be summoned via the local ranger of whatever fief she was in if her services were necessary.

Their route would be pretty much an anti-clockwise circle, starting at Araluen where they'd meet the commandant. After that they'd first visit the northern half of the country. You couldn't be too careful with the weather up north after all, so they'd rather be there during spring, when they departed, than during autumn, when they expected to return. This meant of course that they'd do the southern half last.

Thus the plans were made, and thus Gilan managed to arrive in Caraway just a few hours after Verita's departure. Rotten luck indeed.


	9. 9 - Never look a gift horse in the mouth

(A/N)

Tatatadammm, new chapter! And Verita gets a horse, I hope you like him. And I hope you get the reference to Tangled, I love that film, and Maximus most of all!

Anyway, thanks to Ranger Robbin who reviewed again, hope you enjoy the chapter, and... O right, the stupid disclaimer again. Still don't own RA.

* * *

**Chapter 9 – Never look a gift horse in the mouth**

When Crowley and Berrigan returned to Caraway to pick Verita up they had a little surprise for her. Or a big one, depending on how you looked at it.

"Rita,", Crowley started, "meet Gorlog. Gorlog, meet Verita. Now that the niceties are out of the way, would you mind taking him? I'd rather not stand next to this beast for any longer than absolutely necessary."

Verita curiously eyed the horse standing next to Crowley's pony. It was a few hands taller than the pony and a bit more refined. Whereas the ranger horses were barrel-chested, this steed was all muscle. In fact, it looked like some crazy God had tried to fit all the muscle mass of a battle horse on a pony. The beast did have the same shaggy coat as the ranger ponies, although the long hairs seemed sleeker somehow. The horse's coloring was also off: instead of the usual inconspicuous brown this horse was a beautiful, gleaming coppery color, with a blonde mane.

The thing about the horse that drew the most attention however, was its head. The head was rather big, with disproportionally big eyes. Moreover, both eyes were overshadowed with a thick stripe of black hair, it almost seemed as if the horse had eyebrows. Eyebrows which were slanted in a deep scowl which looked startlingly human.

"Who on earth names his horse 'Gorlog'?", Verita finally asked, incredulously.

"Old Bob, the ranger horse trainer.", Crowley replied as if it were obvious.

"Yes – but why?"

"Because the damned monster is stubborn as a drunken Skandian."

Verita nodded. That made sense. The same couldn't be said for the horse's exterior in general. She vaguely gestured at the animal and managed to say: "Just – how?"

Crowley nodded understandingly.

"This is what happens when a battle horse and a Temujai pony like each other a bit too much."

When he noticed Verita's raised eyebrow, he elaborated: "One of Old Bob's breeding mares ran off with a passing knight's battle horse."

Berrigan rolled his eyes and took over. "You've probably heard of Crowley's legendary friend Halt. Not that there's much truth in those legends. He's sooner half the size of a man than twice the size." Here Berrigan stopped for a second to smile at his own words, something Crowley took advantage of.

"And he has a bear's temper rather than a bear's strength… He's one grumpy Hibernian, I tell you!", Crowley interjected.

"Yes, anyway.", Berrigan continued dryly. "This Halt once stole, or in his words 'borrowed' a herd of Temujai horses. They proved perfect to be trained as ranger horses, so our horse trainer Old Bob used them for breeding. One little problem with that: the mares seemed to like our dashing Araluen stallions a lot better than their shaggy Temujai counterparts. One of them managed to go astray with a battle horse, and that's how Gorlog was born. The same happened some years ago with another mare and a diplomatic courier's horse. The resulting filly, Blaze, could be trained as a ranger horse and now belongs to ranger Halt's apprentice. Bob hoped it would be the same with Gorlog here because he is fast, has great endurance and a lot of natural talent in silent movement and escaping, but well, I guess the name says it all. His temperament is totally unsuited for a ranger horse, he's moody and unpredictable."

"And you brought him here why?"

"Because in spite of his various shortcomings, he has been trained well – even in the ways of a ranger horse. When you're going to make a long journey like this you simply need a horse of your own, and preferably one that won't allow itself to be stolen. That limits your options to ranger horses, but those aren't exactly common, so if you two like each other you'll have Gorlog, because Old Bob doesn't have a use for him and he needs to earn his keep."

Gorlog whinnied angrily at that last comment, after which Verita immediately stepped forward to soothe him.

"Oh, poor Gorlog! You're so underappreciated. These men with their overgrown dogs for ponies simply don't recognize a handsome horse when they see one!"

Gorlog snorted appreciatively and looked triumphantly back at Crowley and Berrigan, who were both astounded.

"But – Rita – he's a monster!", Crowley stammered.

"How so? He's nothing but a big sweetheart!" Gorlog whinnied heartily in agreement. The two men just looked from each other to the girl and the horse, until Berrigan cleared his throat to gain Verita's attention.

"Remember how Gorlog here is really good at breaking out and sneaking around silently?"

Verita nodded affirmatively.

"Well, Gorlog erm, managed to sneak up on Crowley here while he slept, and erm, did his business on Crow's face." Verita managed to keep a straight face for all of ten seconds before she burst into laughter.

"I like him already!", she said enthusiastically as she petted the horse. "Oh, and Crowley…"

"Yes, Rita?"

"You stink."

Crowley didn't dignify that comment with a reply. In fact, he chose that moment to suggest they got a move on if they wanted to arrive at Castle Araluen before dark.

Berrigan briefly explained about the special saddle which Old Bob had put on Gorlog for Verita's benefit. It looked like a normal one, but could be easily adjusted as a sidesaddle. Verita tried riding both ways, and found that riding a sidesaddle on Gorlog, who seemed to be made for her, was much more comfortable than on Crowley's small, old pack pony. She had grown quite tall during the past half year, until she stood about a head taller than Crowley. She had also gained a lot of weight, although thankfully in the right places. She figured it must be her Skandian genes coming out, her mother had also been tall and voluptuous. Women built like that didn't look good on the elegant horses usually preferred by those of their gender. They didn't look good on small ponies or big steeds either. But somehow, Verita on Gorlog looked just right, and the horse would challenge anyone who thought otherwise by waggling his oddly eyebrow-like stripes of black hair.

While on the road Berrigan told Verita that he had a small storage room in Castle Araluen. He was a jongleur of course, which meant he had no permanent residence, which would usually mean that he had to drag all his personal possessions along with him. That was doable for a normal jongleur, but he was a part-time spy who owned a whole bunch of disguises and modified weapons which he couldn't exactly travel around with. Because of this the ranger commandant had allowed Berrigan said storage room as part of his compensation for being an auxiliary ranger.

The point of him telling all this was that in his storage room he also had an old violin which he thought Verita might like to learn how to play. It was a compact enough instrument to take along on a long journey, and Berrigan would teach her whenever they had to camp outside – in other words, whenever their possible audiences couldn't hear the dismal noise made by someone only just learning to play an instrument. Berrigan even told Verita that if she turned out to be good at it, she could keep the violin, because he preferred his trusted gitarra anyway, and felt like he was neglecting the other instrument.

Once Berrigan mentioned this, Verita felt like they couldn't arrive in Araluen soon enough. To pass the time she told her two companions about the secret project which she had been working on while they were away at the gathering.

"Berrigan, I made you a new jongleur's costume.", she said while blushing and staring at her hands. "As a, you know, thank you present of sorts."

When Berrigan asked what it looked like she immediately fished the costume out of her saddlebag to show it. It was in the same colors as his current one, but modeled more like a pirate's outfit.

"It goes so well with your pegleg!", she exclaimed after showing the various options for hiding weapons in the coat-like outer garment. "Just like a real pirate, except for the pillaging and plundering. You can even get a matching stage name now – 'the Singing Sailor' or 'Captain Cookies' or something."

"_The Singing Sailor and the Captain's Daughter _I think, together we'll be quite a hit. You made yourself a matching outfit I hope?", Berrigan asked in a tone that implied he knew the answer already.

"Do you even need to ask?", the girl beside him replied rhetorically, with her biggest grin yet.

The time for frivolities had passed however, when they approached the mighty gates of Castle Araluen. Verita shuddered lightly when a cold breeze blew in her neck. She was due to meet her commandant at last.


	10. 10 - The Ranger Commandant

(A/N)

Oehhh, Verita meets the ranger commandant! I hope you like what I thought up for him. Pritchard comes from 'The Hibernian' from 'The Lost Stories' of course. It's been a while since I read that story though, and a friend of mine who is currently on vacation in Spain lent the book, so I might have some details wrong.

Also, some comments on the timeline of this story, because I found out that it doesn't really fit right:

- Pritchard was banished to Hibernia only a month or so after Crowley's graduation.

- Crowley meets Verita ten years after he graduates.

- Verita is nearly eleven when they meet.

- Crowley becomes commander about one and a half year after he meets Verita.

That means that Pritchard had less than one and a half year to train Halt. Well, I suppose it could work. After all, if you consider all the time that went into hunting Kalkara, being a slave in Skandia, beating Temujai and gallivanting around Arrida, Will's apprenticeship wasn't all that long either.

It also means that Halt still lived in Clonmel when Verita was conceived, so one thing that I had to change is Natalja's secret love. I had this image in my head of her falling in love with the dashing young man (Sean) and then being raped by his nasty old uncle (Ferris), but then I realized that this all happened before Verita was born, so Sean wasn't born yet either, as he was born after Halt left. I decided to make Natalja in love with Halt instead, although he doesn't reciprocate it. I changed chapter one and two a bit to make it fit.

Now, before this A/N is longer than the actual chapter, thanks Ranger Robbin for yet another review, the usual disclaimer, and enjoy the chapter.

Oh, and before I forget, it'll be a while before I update again because 1) I'm going on vacation 2) I don't have any finished chapters left and 3) I'm also busy with my Harry Potter story. I'm not abandoning this thing though, so don't feel disappointed when I don't update for like a month or so.

PS: The song is a slightly edited version of 'Van Diemen's land' by the Dubliners, look it up on youtube.

* * *

**Chapter 10 – The Ranger Commandant**

"Rita, just remember what I told you about him and the corps and you'll be fine", Crowley told Verita while they waited until the ranger Commandant was ready to receive them.

Verita nodded and thought back to one of Crowley's various lectures about the ranger corps. He had been explaining why it was legal for rangers to poach. Apparently, it had all started with his mentor.

Ranger Pritchard had been one of the few capable people in the ranger corps when Crowley became an apprentice. Most other rangers were incompetent fools who had bought their way in. Pritchard however held on to the old ways, and taught Crowley to do the same. Pritchard was a renowned hero, with a reputation bigger than life. Still, a set of unfortunate circumstances proved able to get the better of him.

Immediately after Crowley's graduation, Pritchard was sent on a mission to gather information about Morgarath's troops. The things he discovered were of such importance that he made his return journey incognito, dressed as a peasant, and didn't even dare enter a village until he reached the king at Castle Araluen. In terms of safety measures it was only wise, but it also meant he couldn't buy any food for nearly two weeks – and worse, no coffee. As the proud owner of a huge longbow, Pritchard quickly decided to keep his stomach full by hunting animals for food, even while he traveled through the Western Woods in which all game by law belonged to the king. It was just his bad luck that one of the king's patrols happened upon him and overcame him.

They took him for a peasant because of his disguise. Pritchard tried to tell them that he was a ranger of course, but the men were inexperienced and didn't recognize his silver oak leaf. In fact, one of the soldiers took it to give to his daughter as a birthday present. This meant that he had no identification when the patrol brought him to their captain at the guard post in Wensley Harbor. He was taken for a poacher and condemned to banishment. Normally he would have to be brought before the king for that, but in times of war like at that moment, people didn't make such a hassle about protocol for a simple farmer, not when there were more important matters to attend to.

As far as the people of Araluen knew, the only thing west of their country was Hibernia. Most foreign traders approached the country from the east, so they chose to moor at the big harbor near Castle Araluen. It was therefore that Wensley Harbor, in spite of its advantageous location at the mouth of the river Tarbus near Castle Redmont, was only a small harbor, because it was on the unpopular west side of Araluen. Still, Hibernia's even more westward location made that country largely dependent on Araluen for import products, so Hibernian trade vessels came and went in Wensley Harbor almost daily.

One such trade vessel had the unpleasant task of taking along the defamed ranger.

Once he arrived in Clonmel, Hibernia, Pritchard managed to make a living by teaching the crown prince of his new kingdom the ways of a ranger. The same crown prince later fled to Araluen, found Crowley and helped defeat Morgarath. He liked the concept of the rangers and would like to become one, but he corps lay in shambles and the rangers of that day were hardly worth their title. Crowley wanted to reform the ranger corps, and Halt wanted to help him, so together they went to Castle Araluen to talk about it with king Duncan.

Duncan was all for the plan. However, both he, Halt and Crowley saw that the ranger corps couldn't be led by a barely graduated ranger and a foreigner, the senior rangers would never accept that. In the end they decided to fetch Pritchard back from Hibernia and make him the commandant, he was still one of the most capable rangers after all. Crowley would get ten years to make as many improvements to the corps as he could, and if he did a good job he'd become commandant after that.

There was just one problem with this plan: Pritchard. The man had become bitter after his banishment, and was now reluctant to help the corps. He still took the job, but hardly put in any effort. Rather than that he gave Crowley a warrant to act as his proxy and let his former student do all the work. It saddened Crowley immensely to see his former hero like this, but at least he had the freedom to bring all his plans into execution.

Coincidentally, this all happened just before the annual gathering of that year. This gathering was also the only time Pritchard actually did something during his entire career as ranger corps commandant: he handed Halt a silver oak leaf, told the rangers who complained about Halt's nationality to shut up and explained that Crowley from that point on had the same authority as himself. After that the junior ranger had had to figure everything out himself.

Coledale fief had lost its ranger in the war against Morgarath, so Halt was designated to that fief. It was a small, sleepy fief situated in the middle of Araluen, so it could easily miss its ranger for extended periods of time and most other fiefs were only a few days' ride away. To be stationed at such a fief was perfect for Halt, because Crowly had another job for Halt as well. Namely, he had noticed that his friend was very good at intimidating people, no matter their age or occupation. He had also made up a bunch of guidelines for various situations in a ranger's life, like training an apprentice. Many rangers didn't like being told what to do by the young man, so Crowley sicked Halt on them to inspect if they followed the guidelines. Needless to say, Halt left a trail of drenched rangers in his wake, dumping them in the nearest big enough water formation.

"What is it with Halt and dumping people in water?", Crowley had thought to himself while he told Verita all this. The man was known for throwing barons in their own moats, and apparently he had thrown his own apprentice in a river before taking the boy on. Crowley pitied the poor boy enormously, that he had to live with the grumpy Hibernian for five years.

He had once wondered what the name 'Hibernia' meant, and Verita had suggested that it was derived from 'hibernation', because Halt had the temper of a bear who was disturbed during hibernation. Crowley had grimly thought that the girl wouldn't dare repeat those words after she met the man in question, but he had nearly laughed his head off all the same.

Anyway, the point of the whole lecture had been that Pritchard was very reluctant to return, and that he was only willing to concede in the end if poaching would be legalized for rangers. That's how the exception in the poaching law came about.

As Verita thought about all this, she was also reminded of a song. She knew a lot of songs, because she had practically grown up working in a pub, but this had always been one of her favorites. She softly sang it to pass the time.

_"Come all ye gallant poachers_

_Who ramble void of care_

_Who walk out on a moonlit night_

_With your dog and bow and snare_

_The hare and lofty pheasant_

_You have at your command"_

At that point she noticed a man approaching in one of the corridors which ended in the hall where she sat. The man was hiding in the shadows, obviously eavesdropping, so Verita looked straight at him as she finished her stanza.

_"Till by king's men you are taken and_

_Banished from your homeland"_

Silence ensued after that, as the man and the girl stared each other in the eyes, daring the opponent to look away. The man's cloak and weapons marked him as a ranger, so Verita supposed that he was the commandant, as she had thought.

"A very apt song I suppose.", the ranger brusquely said after the silence had worn on long enough in his opinion, and abruptly turned his back on her.

"Crowley, how are things in Caraway?", he then asked to the other person present.

Pritchard and Crowley both knew that Crowley's promotion hadn't entirely been for pure reasons. The senior rangers had found out about the ten-year deal the king had made with Crowley. They had also figured out that those ten years would be over soon, and that the young upstart would become their commandant after that. In a fit of desperation they had appealed to Pritchard to promote Crowley to Caraway fief, which was a lot bigger and more important than Crowley's previous fief, in the hope that he would mess up. Pritchard did relocate Crowley to Caraway of course, but only because he considered his former apprentice up to the task. And he was.

"Caraway has never been better. I manage just fine there, especially with Rita's help.", Crowley answered respectfully.

"Oh, right. Verita no-name, our new poaching cloak maker. She's younger than I expected.", Pritchard commented, getting angry as he thought back to the song she had been singing.

"She's capable though.", Crowley retorted, hoping his friend wouldn't take the insults personally.

"Capable of speaking for herself aye!", Verita interjected, a tad loudly, annoyed with the conversation. The men turned to look at her, and she blushed. Pritchard frowned and looked thoughtful.

"Do I know you from somewhere? You seem familiar."

Verita just raised an eyebrow, she hadn't forgiven her commandant the rude insults from before and decided to give him payback. "Considering you lived in exile in Hibernia while I was born and didn't leave this castle in the period between then and now, I think that rather unlikely sir, with all due respect." She stressed the word 'due', as if she thought she wasn't due any respect to him.

Pritchard however frowned at the mention of Hibernia, and then looked as if he realized something. "You're taller, and your hair is different, but other than that you're a dead ringer for Caitlyn O'Carrick."

Verita merely raised her eyebrow a bit higher. "Who?", she enquired.

"Caitlyn O'Carrick, the sister of the current king of Clonmel."

"Well, seeing how I am, as you so aptly put it my dear commander, a 'no-name', I suppose we can all agree that I am not acquainted with her." Pritchard didn't quite know what to say to that.

Crowley studied Verita's facial expression in amazement. He had only ever seen his friend Halt lift his eyebrow that high. He inconspicuously tried to wiggle his own eyebrows, but didn't manage it. He noticed Verita glancing at him from the corner of his eye, so he quickly stopped.

Pritchard abruptly turned to Crowley again. "Crowley, you're a good lad, and you'll make one hell of a commander. You'll do better at this job than I ever could have. The ten years are almost over, I'll announce you as the new commander at the next gathering, which is obviously exactly a year away. Do the best you can, Crowley, for the sake of Araluen, because I have a feeling that the future of this country will depend on the ranger corps sooner or later. Never forget that Morgarath is still lurking in the mountains. I know I haven't been much of a commandant, but you will, you'll have to be." The man studied Verita for a moment with a contemplative expression on his face. "Look after this girl, Crowley, for some reason I think she'll play a big role in the future.", he then said.

It was silent again for a while. Then Pritchard suddenly left the room.

"Be on your way now!", he yelled over his shoulder as he closed the door, and Crowley and Verita looked at each other and shrugged. Berrigan would probably be waiting for them already.


	11. 11 - Father and Son

(A/N)

Yay, Je Buurman is back in action! Also, I've hammered out most of the plot's details now, so I'm pretty sure I'll continue this. I still think there are a lot of things wrong with it, like how Verita should be much to young and traumatized to be quite so independent and relaxed, but I'll stick with my own motto: a bit of imagination improves most fanfics by tenfold. Anyway, I've grown rather fond of this story, especially with the twist that's coming up in the next few chapters, I hope to surprise you with it.

Ranger Robin, guest, Moniquebowman, Alex The Rogue and Seriya Silvermist, thanks for your reviews!

Moniquebowman, I'm reading your story now, it's great and I'll review when I've finished it! By the way, I also think that it's a bit weird that Verita immediately tells Crowley her whole life story, I consider it one of the plot's weakest points. Still, in Verita's defence, Crowley had already been following her around the forest for more than a week before she let him find her, so she's had plenty of time to observe him. His dedication, skill and persistence must have impressed her. She says herself that something about him simply made her trust him, the huge contrast with the lousy previous ranger must have contributed to that. Also, don't forget that it's not just a matter of him winning her trust, but also of her winning his trust, because she needs that job as a cloakmaker for the rangers. Only in that position will she both earn money and have permission to keep poaching.

Anyway, enjoy the new chapter, and I don't own the Ranger's Apprentice series.

* * *

**Chapter 11 – Father and Son**

It was a humongous effort for Gilan Davidson to keep his mischievous smirk hidden as he waved his mentor goodbye at the crossroads. The path Halt took would bring him back to Redmont, the path Gilan took led him to Araluen – and Caraway behind that. His hand unconsciously strayed to pet his saddlebag, which contained the entire coffee supply which Halt had brought to the gathering. The reason for Gilan's suppressed smirk was the fact that Halt had no idea that his apprentice currently had the coffee supply.

The boy considered it only fair. After all, Halt had a positively huge stash of the stuff at his cabin, while Gilan had none at all. He conveniently overlooked the fact that he could ask for some coffee from the kitchens of Caraway Castle, where his father lived, whenever he so desired, not even having to make it himself. No, he was much too preoccupied with imagining Halt's face when the older man would camp at the side of the road that night, and discover that he had no coffee and wouldn't have any before the next evening when he arrived home.

A smirk did break through when Gilan imagined telling this story to Verita, whom he was sure he'd see while he was in Caraway. He had never gotten the chance to tell her he was going to be a ranger, to say goodbye, and he regretted that. On the other hand he hoped to deepen his friendship with the girl now that he knew a bit more about her life. They had certainly been friends before, they had talked and joked around and enjoyed each other's company a lot. Gilan idly contemplated that he and old pater Hadrianus were the only two people she ever smiled at. Even so, she had never told him a single thing about her home life, not even when he had the courage to ask. He only ever saw her in school, at the market or in the harbor, but he had no idea where she lived.

He could ask Crowley about that, Gilan realized. As a fellow ranger it was only logical that he'd speak to the man at least once during his stay, and Crowley would surely know it. He'd make things right with Vera, and then he'd ask her if she perhaps wanted to go hunting with him when he had some free time. But first things first, he'd have to go home and see his father.

That meeting didn't exactly go like the young man expected. Sir David greeted his son of course, and they exchanged the usual pleasantries, but the man seemed mentally absent. His eyes were unfocused most of the time, he hardly listened to what Gilan said and appeared to be in distress. Gilan decided to confront his father with the fact.

"Father,", he began, "what distracts you so?"

Sir David looked at his son for a moment, and then blurted out: "I've made a terrible mistake."

Gilan gestured at his father to explain himself, which the man did.

"About eleven years ago a woman entered this castle in the middle of the night and gave birth to a baby girl. She was well dressed, so I took her for a noblewoman who had gone astray with some man, gotten pregnant as a result of it, and then fled from her parents. She was obviously not from here, as she spoke with the oddest accent, but even while recovering from giving birth she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever beheld, more beautiful than your mother I must admit. The baron decided that she could stay in the fief if she provided for herself and didn't cause trouble. She sold her jewelry to pay for the registration fee and thus became a citizen of this country. Enough money remained for her to buy a small neglected cottage, and she found work in a pub I hope to never see you entering."

Sir David briefly paused to swallow before he continued. "The woman later became a prostitute. She wasted all the money she earned and spent nothing on daughter who pretty much grew up in that horrible pub where her mother worked. When the girl got older and became able to wander around the fief though, she was always expensively dressed, and often walked around the market carrying big amounts of food, more meat than a family needs in a month. She couldn't afford that, so considering her upbringing, I pegged her as a thief. Not only that, I shared those suspicions. I was perhaps the only person in this fief who didn't judge the girl for her mother's occupation, but she didn't become a real outcast until those accusations were added to her mother's disgrace."

Sir David paused again.

"You're talking about Verita, right?", Gilan decided to interject. Sir David looked his son in the eye, and his sad, remorseful expression was answer enough. His confession wasn't done yet though.

"You know about the sponsorships baron Fergus sometimes gives, son?"

Gilan nodded in confirmation. In Caraway, when a child of poor parents showed uncommon intelligence, the baron would pay for this child's education so that no talent would go to waste.

"With her obvious intelligence she should have gotten one, but because of my misjudged view of her I discouraged the baron from allowing her in the castle, which is why she didn't get one. She still went to school when the ranger paid for it, but that stopped when her mother died. Had she been able to finish her education, then she could have made a career in another fief, but now she seemed doomed to destitution."

"She wasn't, she joined the ranger corps.", Gilan remarked in a slightly accusing tone.

"That's the point. According to Halt, there are a lot of rotten apples in the corps these days, but ranger Crowley is a decent lad and he would only recruit reliable people, hence my assumptions must be wrong, hence I made a young girl's life hell for a decade for no reason. I wish I could at least have apologized to her, but by the time I figured it all out she fell ill and then she suddenly left on a long journey, it'll be several months before she returns."

Gilan felt his hope sinking like it was an actual substance in his body. He wouldn't get to see Vera after all. Father and son sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, then the latter heaved a big sigh.

"I understand your reasoning father, really, but I can't forgive you just like that, Verita is too dear a friend."

The boy contemplated his own words and realized that he was right. His father had noticed that Natalja neglected her daughter, he should have done something about it, or at least mention it to the baron who was obligated to take care of the people in his fief. If not he should have investigated more before condemning the poor girl. One thing that struck Gilan as typical for Verita was that she was always working – even when they hung out in the harbor together, their favorite place, she would always take some knitting with her. Someone so diligent could never be a thief, which David should have realized.

"That is more than I had any right to expect.", sir David answered.

Gilan despondently studied his shoes, then got up and left the room. Before he closed the door though, he asked one more question.

"How is she?"

His father answered without hesitation. "She's grown very tall, and looks more alive than before somehow. She'll be as beautiful as her mother if not more so."

Without Verita, Caraway held little appeal to Gilan. To distract himself from her absence he threw himself into swordfight practice with a fiery determination which surprised even his teacher, MacNeil.

When Crowley returned from castle Araluen, Gilan got to know the man better and became good friends with him. The memory of Halt's many girlfriend jokes kept the boy from asking too many questions about Crowley's missing protégée though. Crowley vaguely remembered Verita mentioning the battlemaster's son, but had forgotten the boy's significance, so he didn't volunteer any information either.

Life carried on like that for two months, until Gilan was supposed to return to Halt. He wasn't exactly happy with the way his visit had turned out, but at least his swordwork had improved.


End file.
